Shut Down
by Voosh Voosh
Summary: Ever since that night, finding that bloody RED Spy, nothing feels right anymore. The feeling of being watched, the strange purple and black, and worst of all, RED Sniper can't figure out what the damn Spy wants.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

 **"You've failed!"**

Sniper groaned. Respawned just in time to hear that. Lovely.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and ran his hand down his long face. He was not in the mood for running, but then he heard a pained scream. Humiliation phase has started, and no one wanted to be on the losing team for that. It was a short window of time for the winning team to hunt for the losers and gut them however they pleased - insult to injury. A quick reminder was all he needed to get his lanky legs up and going, but there wasn't anywhere to hide. Harvest wasn't a huge arena, and it took no time to cross to one base, especially for that pesky BLU Scout. Two quick shots at point-blank range from his scattergun was all it took to take him down.

Sniper slipped through the automatic sliding doors and into what he guessed to be a barn of some sort. Wasn't very roomy, and seemed more like a house, but there was hay scattered around and barrels of stale fruit. He head towards the stairs, and above he could hear the laughter of both the BLU Heavy and Medic. There was no way he could hide upstairs where his nest was, and footsteps were quickly thudding above him. As silently as he could, he dashed into that shadowed nook next to the stairs. The wooden door was locked, no way to hide in there. He looked under the stairs and grimace.

There was barely enough room between the crates and the barrel, but he managed to squeeze all his limbs together into the tight space. He watched the growing shadows, then the feet thumped down the stairs.

"Vhere iz RED Spy? Can't vait to saw him in half," said the doctor with a waving motion of his bonesaw.

"Da, leetle Spy izn't so good without his leetle knife."

"Ze rest must be defecating zemselves in respawn. How gud it feels to finally vin again!" he grinned sadistically.

His Russian colleague nodded in agreement as the pair passed the nook without a glance. Sniper exhaled. He'll just have to sit here until it's over. Oh his poor back.

Another pair of footsteps came. It came from the right, and in a hurry. His ears picked up every movement of whoever was coming, and he could hear rubber swishing against one another. A Pyro.

He squeezed his eyes closed. Maybe if he couldn't sense the enemy, they couldn't sense him. The swishing came closer.

 _Piss_

A gas mask appeared at eye level.

"Oh fuck m- oh."

It was just their little fire bugger. RED Pyro stared at the Aussie, and despite wearing that hideous gas mask, they gave a pleading look.

"Pyro, no. You're gonna get us both caught."

Pyro crouched down.

"Pyro."

"Hudda."

"..."

-O-

Sniper was on the floor of the respawn room again. So was Pyro.

"Mate, find your own hiding spot next time."

A small giggle emitted out of their mask and they gave a shrug.

Everyone else was already in the tiny respawn room, either accusing one another or being drunk. Only Demoman was drunk.

Soldier huffed and got up on one of the side benches and with a snarl, he barked, "We had a winning streak going and what do you maggots do? LOSE IT! I better see you all trying your best to start it again, even if you have to claw your enemies' eyes out. Even if you have no arms and chew at their ankles until their feet fall off! Even if you have to use your heads as-"

"Soldier, can ya shut up!" the Bostonian shouted back, "Ya yelling is giving me a headache!"

He hopped down and marched over to the cubicles where the Scout stood. He began barking again.

"I am giving an inspirational speech! You will listen to my inspirational and be inspired to do better! Do I make myself clear!"

"Your speech is as inspirational as my ass. On second thought, my butt is looking pretty good," Scout said as he checked out his own behind.

"No one vants to see zat," Medic quipped as fiddled with his medigun next to a frowning Engineer.

Sniper decided to join his more sensible teammates on the bench and see what they're up to. From the constant switch flicking of on and off, and repeated bangs on the medipack, it looks out of commission.

"It's broken alright," Engineer stated as he took the medigun in his hands, "Looks like I'll have to crack it open to find out why."

Medic nodded and adjusted his glasses. He looked over to the pair that was now bickering over whose arse is better, and they made a show of it.

"I'll prove that I have a nicer looking ass!" Soldier said and reached for his pants. Heavy came from behind and held his arms.

"Heavy does not enjoy looking at Americans' behinds," the Russian spoke in his own thick accent.

"We better start heading back inside," Engie said while getting up. His gaze wandered to the Demoman in the corner.

"I'm drunk!" he held out his bottle and took a swig from it again.

-O-

Sniper followed the Medic and Engineer through the grated door. Only the Texan had the keys to the various bases they stationed at, probably to prevent the other less trusted mercenaries to fool around with the doors. Scout is the most likely to try to lock someone out for the night.

They walked down the hallway with the top wall painted white and bottom red, just like everything in their base. To their uniforms to the chairs, everything was red all around. Sniper was never the one for aesthetics, but was amazed how they kept everything red without overdoing it. He heard the others starting to trickled behind, but then a sudden shout from Demoman was heard.

"Sorry lads, but the T.V. is mine tonight!"

Then he barreled through Sniper with Scout on his heels.

"Oi, watch it!"

"Move it slowpoke!"

The Australian grumbled in annoyance. It doesn't matter who got to choose the channel first, because as soon as it turns on, the only thing that will be on is the score from today's battle. It'll last a good half an hour or so before letting regular cable be broadcasted. Everyone else headed towards the T.V. where the Demo and Scout bickered over the middle seat of the wine couch. Engie grabbed the remote from the poker table and clicked it on. Today's scoreboard flickered on the screen. A translucent gray with white lettering appeared with the RED logo above along with their team's color banner above. The background for today's scoreboard was a scenic view from his home country, the Outback. Pyro cheered as Engie congratulated them for being first, and they giggled while clapping their rubber gloves.

"Look! The Frenchie is at the bottom for once!" Scout exclaimed.

Sniper looked at the last line, and lifted an eyebrow. Sure enough, his little mask icon popped up last next to his class title, with a whooping nine points. Spy's score never was in the single digits, nor touched the bottom of the board, even on his off-days. That spook always held himself to a "higher standard", as he called it, acting snobbish and condescending, and Sniper made an effort to avoid the pompous man.

"Vhere is ze Spy anyway? I don't zink he vas in the respawn room vith us earlier," Medic asked glancing around the lounge. Spy was nowhere to be seen.

"Maybe that's why we lost! We were practically one soldier down - that crouton has a lot of explaining to do!"

Now that Sniper was thinking of it, his counterpart has gotten him more often than he liked today. Absentmindedly, he rubbed his forehead, and recalled seeing the Spy doing his job a couple of times, but that was on the BLU Heavy and Medic duo. After that, he never saw Spy's red flickers appear through his scope. He smirked - imagining the snake's smug face drain is an amusing sight.

"Sniper did vell," Heavy announced to no one in particular. The Australian looked up to see where his cross hair icon was at, and it was just below the Pyro's flame. "Credit to team."

"He didn't get as many kills as I did though," the loud-mouthed brat pointed out.

"I still did better," Sniper gloated.

The brat blew a raspberry at him.

As the others discussed their scores, Sniper got up and headed towards the kitchen. The red carpet flooring changed as he reached the doorway to the kitchen, the least red room in the base. It consisted of hexagonal white and crimson tiles that checker-patterned the floor. Besides the nine red plastic chairs that were in one of the many shades of red, the rest of the furnishing was in basic white. He went around the circular dining table and towards the coffee machine. Drinking coffee at night became a habit of his. It must have developed from the irregular hours they fought on the battlefield, ranging from early sunrise to the wee hours in the dark, or assassination contracts he've received before this job. The night was a good time to pop heads off of businessmen who had plenty of enemies.

Engineer was in the kitchen with his hat off and goggles propped up on his head before the Aussie arrived, grumbling to himself as he grabbed a cold one outta the fridge. He made out some of the words the Texan muttered to himself, the most prominent being "new fangled-sapper." Engine peered above the fridge door and looked to see who came in.

"You looking to grab one of these?" asked the hard-hat as he shook the bottle, "It's the last one, well, the last refrigerated one."

"Nah, just coffee."

He gave him a suspicious look.

"At ten?"

"I only drink decaf."

He shrugged and muttered, "Alrighty then," and sat down at the table. Sniper picked up the coffee pot and sniffed at the leftover brew. It smelled like the brand he usually drinks, but he wasn't sure since all coffee basically smelled the same. Taking his favorite mug (#1 Sniper) out of the drying rack that rested on the windowsill above the sink, he poured a bit of the coffee's pot contents into his mug, took a sip, and poured more. He was about to head back to his camper, until Engie spoke up again.

"You know, I think we could've won today."

 _Oh no, small talk._

Sniper didn't like making small-talk. Well, he never really bothered to be honest. He wasn't like the other Australians growing up - lanky, no chest hair the shape of their beloved continent, no moustache. He stuck out like two sore thumbs knotted together with rope that jammed right into your eye. He was a quiet fellow, kept to himself most of the time, after all, he was a professional. It was also professional to be polite.

"Yeh?"

"But danggit that darn BLU Spy!" Engie said frustratingly, "Took down all my buildings in one go, dunno the hell he did."

The Aussie kept quiet for him to continue.

"I didn't even see that darn snake near me. But suddenly -" Engie said as he made circular motions with his bare hands, "Boom! They exploded outta nowhere, didn't even see any one of those nasty sappers on them. But I know he did something. There was this sound that came from upstairs, metallic, real high-pitched too. Sounded like radio technology. I think it also messed up the doc's medigun, though he wasn't too sure when it stopped working since he had his saw out. Did you see anything up there?"

"When was this?"

"Near the end of the round, the BLU Soldier and Pyro were able to get on the point 'cuz my sentry wasn't there anymore."

 _End of the round…_

Before the last time he respawned, he took out the other Sniper right between his eyes, knocking off his stupid looking hat too. Their BLU Scout wasn't being subtle about coming, and he heard his scurrying feet make dull thuds. He headed where the room Sniper usually stood, but it was more of a hallway than a room, J-shaped and lined with plenty of windows for those hard-to-get angles. The Scout was to the right, running across the roof that the windows gave access to. An easy shot, and the dumb boy was running straight at him. But, Sniper knew he didn't pull the trigger. He died before then.

"No, didn't see anything."

Engie scratched his scruff.

"Either I'll build something to counteract or it was something illegal and the Administrator will remove it, either way, I already have an idea to what it was," he said as he grinned devilishly, "And I have another round to test it."

Once the Engineer was in the zone, not even a tornado dismantling the land around them could disturb him. Sniper took the opportunity to sneak out the kitchen and into a hallway that led to the back of the base, leaving the Texan to scribble equations on the table with the tip of his finger. He walked down the short corridor lit with fluorescent lights, and to a screened door to the left. To the right was a turn to a longer corridor with the mercenaries room lined neatly and a communal bathroom at the end of the hall. One of the doors led downstairs to the gym, but Sniper hasn't been down there yet.

Holding the lukewarm cup of Joe, he exited to the backyard and stood under the door light that loomed above. It casted long shadows, making his figure look lankier than he already was. Outside the small radius of light, the dark crept gingerly around him, hiding his camper and the woods beyond. A thin metal fence sliced between their base and the wild, separating the two poorly. The back was a spacious area, enough for the camper to be a fairways with a campfire area for nine closer to the main building. The spring air that was edging fall was still. He stood there, and took a sip.

 _Rustle._

Maybe there was some wind.

 _Rustle. Rustle._

But the bushman didn't feel it.

 _Rustle. Scrape._

That was a footstep.

His kukri was in hand and back arched with knees bent. Gritting his teeth, Sniper faced the direction it was coming in. Near his chest was his mug, protected with a death grip. Was it one of the BLU's? A stray animal? He gripped the handle tighter, ready to slash the long menacing blade into the body of whatever was coming closer. Another sound. Sniper shifted his feet in the dirt.

A lurching figure was at the edge of the ring of light. The bushman's arm twitched, but he didn't attack.

"Wot?"

Spy leaned against the wall, half of him still in the dark. Dark circles formed at the Frenchman's feet, and on his chest was a suit ruined with an opened narrow gash. A gloved hand pressed to it, and the other arm was limp at his side. The balaclava masked his face, but anyone can read pain in his expression. He warily smiled.

"Hello Sniper, mind getting zee Medic for me?"

* * *

A/N: Feedback is appreciated! c:


	2. Chapter 2

"Bloody hell, where've you been? C'mon."

Spy's breath was ragged and harsh shadows covered most of his face. Dark specks of blood spotted his pinstripe suit lightly and dabbed his neck. On his thigh was another opening, a stab wound caked with blood around it and streaks of red ran down his suit pants. He shifted his entire weight against the wall as Sniper sheathed his weapon and put down his mug by the door. He went towards the masked man and placed his arm around Spy's waist and lifted Spy's good arm around his own neck.

"Thank you," he croaked.

Sniper nodded as he guided the injured man towards the screened door. They trotted slowly down the corridor, leaving a trail of scarlet droplets behind them. He glanced down at his hurt teammate and frowned. The spook was not only known for his snobby attitude, but also for his immaculate appearance. It's hard to stay clean with such bloody wounds, but his suit was also dirtied with ashes. Ashes were Pyro's thing, not Spy. His head lolled against Sniper's shoulder.

"Oi, you better not be fainting on me."

"Non," Spy said, "I'm wide awake."

A short pause. He looked at him again, then his eyes darted ahead.

"What happened?" the bushman asked.

"Nothing I couldn't handle."

Sniper's brows furrowed.

"You've been missing the whole night."

"I'm aware."

Behind his aviators, he rolled his eyes. The Frenchman keeping secrets isn't new, but this is ridiculous. He was helping him! Some answers wouldn't hurt. The Aussie began to glare at him, but stopped. He saw the pale Spy looking down at the tiles, but he was...smiling? A tired smile, not the usual annoying smug one he wore by default. Strange.

They reached the kitchen and he gingerly sat the masked man down on a chair. Sniper didn't notice the gloved hand lingering for an extra second. Engie was long gone by now, probably tinkering on whatever he started zoning on at the table earlier.

"I'll grab the Medic," Sniper said and headed for the doorway.

"Don't bother, zee medigun is broken. Get zee Engineer instead."

Oh right. Wait, how did he kno-

"Is that the good-for-nothing crouton I hear!" someone shouted from the next room. On the lounge sofa sat the crazy American and his Scottish friend with their fire bugger on the carpeted floor. Pistol shots were heard from the television along with music from the Wild West.

"Hudda?"

"Spy's back?" Demo asked peering from the sofa. His one eye widened. "What tha bloody hell happened? You look like someone threw yer arse outta tha window."

"Thank you," he replied sarcastically.

-O-

"Tha snake passed out, I tried though," Demo said as he poked his unconscious teammate.

"Welp, looks to me he lost a lotta blood. Nothing our Medic can't fix," Engine said as he twisted some dials on he humming dispenser. Sniper watched from the kitchen doorway staring at the limp figure on the chair. A soft beam hit Spy, enveloping his entire torso. He felt the effects of the dispenser himself, a warm and fuzzy feeling that bubbled inside him, and he swore to the hard-hat once it smelled just like the campfires he made when alone in the outback. Engineer said it smelled like apple pie to him.

"We need to get him to the Medic. Solly, can ya carry him?" he asked packing the dispenser.

"What? This amount of blood loss is nothing! I once had to hold my own guts in and crawl back while the enemy wa-"

"Just carry him."

Soldier grumbled as he marched over to the unconscious man and ungracefully swung him over his shoulder. A poorly wrapped bandage from Spy's thigh fell off, courtesy of Demoman. Engineer had his dispenser compressed into a compact toolbox and turned to face the Aussie.

"What happened to Spy?"

He shrugged at the Texan. He really had no clue.

"I think it's best if went with the rocket-for-brains," he said jabbing his thumb at the grunting Soldier, "I would go myself, but I gotta finish fixing the medigun before tomorrow's battle." Sniper really didn't want to and thought about refusing by making some excuse, but, that wouldn't be polite would it?

"Aye then, couch to myself," Demoman happily said as he ran back to the couch, but then let out an "ough". Pyro was already sprawled out on it.

Sniper caught up with the American as they passed the poker table and into a hall that led to the medical bay.

"I can carry this French toast stick myself!" he heaved as he shifted Spy on his shoulder like a sack of flour.

"Not doubting you mate," he reassured him. Sniper trailed behind the beefier man and watched Spy's arms sway side to side. He dangled like a strung up animal in a rope trap - it reminded him of the rabbit he had once for dinner.

"Did you see the man who did it?" Soldier asked out of nowhere.

"Huh?"

"Which BLU was it? Jumping on one of our men afterhours like a coward! I bet it was that Sniper of their's, always hiding and taking hits like a girl instead of a man! Er, no offense."

"None taken," he muttered with rolling eyes, "and I don't know, he came outta nowhere all bloody and wounded."

A short silence set in as they reached the infirmary. Steel double doors greeted them with a glowing sign labelled, "Medical Bay", on top. As soon as they went in, Soldier barked, "Medic! Man down!"

Inside was blinding white with a light red curtain obscuring half the room. There was a desk pushed against the wall with cabinets above filled with various medication and bottles. A waste basket overflowing with documents sat neglected in the corner next to the equally messy desk. Posters of the human anatomy and the classic E's tacked on the plain red walls. The operating table was opposite of the desk.

"Soldier, I svear if you bring another half-dead raccoon in here, I'll sew it's tail on you!" A disgruntled doctor emerged from behind the curtain and glared at the pair, but his face expression immediately changed.

"Spy? Vhat happened to him?"

"Spook lost a lotta blood."

Medic flung the curtains opened and revealed three beds lined up neatly.

"Put him here," he pointed to the closest bed and began preparing an IV. On command, Soldier dumped the Spy on a bed, and said, "The greasemonkey patched him up with the dispenser. Tomorrow, we're gonna show those BLU monsters what for and avenge ou-"

"Spoi didn't say who did it."

Medic raised an eyebrow.

"Who else would be such cowards! The BLUs!"

The doctor pulled open the fridge and took out a clear bag and one filled with blood. He hooked both bags on the stand and carefully inserted the needle into Spy's left arm and taped it down. The masked man's chest rose and fell steadily under the white sheet.

"Doesn't matter if ze BLUs done it, ve're gonna fight them either way," he said flatly, "Now out you two, he needs rest."

He shooed them out of the bay and the double doors closed behind them. They walked out of the waiting area that had two benches lined against opposite walls.

Soldier stopped and said, "Sniper."

"Yeh?"

"You were walking behind me right?"

That's an odd obvious question.

"Yes…?"

"Then," he spun around and stuck his butt out to the Aussie, "Do I have the nicer ass?"

"...G'nite Solly."

\- O -

One of those nights ain't it?

Sniper lied awake on his thin mattress with a fuzzy blanket covering him half-way. Inside the camper was dark, and on the wooden stool next to him had a digital clock that read 12:47. It's late, and battle begins at 7:30 pronto, but he couldn't sleep. The coffee was too cold to drink and he wasn't in the mood when he got his mug back. He stared out in the darkness, eyes focused on nothing really. His eyes blurred in and out, trying his best to stay unfocused as long as he could. It was a funny feeling, where the edge of his vision became more blurred out if he stared at one point in space without breaking it. It was like a ball of darkness stretched and retracted in correspondence to his focus.

Events of today's battle floated into his mind. Images of the BLU Scout jumping from his side and onto the control's point rooftop, then exploding immediately after as their Demo screamed "FREEDOM" with his stickies launching everywhere. Sniper silently chuckled at the memory. 6 months he has been here. Feels like he's been here forever, and those faces never had been new to him - they've been just there.

He scratched his belly, avoiding the scar that ran from his hip to the very edge of his bellybutton. That dark ball started expanding behind his eyes as he wondered. What happened to hard-hat's stuff? How did Medic survive against the BLU bomb-lobbing simpleton? Why didn't he pull that trigger? It was such an easy shot. A red dot on the boy's forehead. So easy…

He sat there on a wooden crate in a cramped garage. A little puppy with watery black eyes was jumping all around on a ball of dough.

Squish squish.

The dough stretched with every jump, but snap back as soon the tiny brown pup got off. A cute little thing it was. Sniper reached forward with his gloved hand outstretched. The puppy stared at him as his hand came closer, it's pupils widening and growing until it's eyes were big wet beads. It's rear end perked up and the puppy pounced on his fingers and bit them, running away with the dough in its mouth. The bite didn't hurt and blood dripped from his middle finger.

Drip.

Drip.

It made tiny red dots. They dots danced around on the gray floor, jumping and swirling and doing all kinds of patterns. All the dots stopped and merged together to form one big dot. It glowed.

The crate under him disappeared suddenly and something forced him on his back. The garage became lit up, and wouldn't stop getting brighter. It was too bright, and covered his eyes. He wanted to move and get out of the place, but the light tugged at him. It felt like it was tearing his head into pieces. Another tug. But it came from the stomach. It tugged harder, and made him arch his back. He peeped between his pinkie and ring finger, and the light stung him. An arm was emerging from his stomach, it's bare hand twitching and a familiar pinstripe sleeve covered the rest. Sniper wanted to scream.

\- O -

A low groan escaped his mouth and Spy's eyes cracked open. His mouth was dry and his tongue felt larger than usual. He winced as he tried to move his left arm, and frowned at the clear tube sticking out of his arm. The curtain of the medical bay was partly opened, and a dim light clung against the walls. He heard soft snoring from the other side, probably the Medic's. In front of him was a barred window, and outside was completely dark with no moon. A start of the new cycle, how poetic.

"How poetic indeed," he muttered to himself, "it is another new start after all."


End file.
